I know, you big idiot
by ADHDQueen123
Summary: He was hard headed, stupid, impulsive. When he was pissed, nothing else mattered. She knew that, way more than most. That didn't stop her from getting hurt, though.


He hadn't seen her. She didn't warn him verbally, she should have, and she didn't. He had looked to her, the first time, right before he swung the strap. Then he looked at her again, and she looks away. He pulls his arm back, and is swinging it forward when he finally feels her hand on his side, buts it's too late. The whip makes contact.

But not to the grounder.

He hears the scream last, after he watches her crumple to the metal floor. He immediately drops the strap, and lunges forward, all anger and hatred he had been feeling the last few hours immediately evaporating, being replaced by regret, fear, and downright guilt. "Clarke! Oh god, Clarke, I'm sorry!" Bellamy reaches for her, gathering her in his arms, or at least trying to. She lets out a yelp when he touches her, and jolts to the side, away from both him and the grounder. The look in her eyes breaks his heart: she thinks he did it on purpose. "Clarke!" Octavia calls out, and rushes towards her, examining the diagonal gash across her back. "Princess-"

"Don't, Bellamy." Clarke gasps out, gripping onto Octavia as she helps her to her feat. The blonde looks at the girl, and shrugs off her help while making her way to the hatch. "Clar, are you-"

"I need to go clean this." She is almost out of sight when she calls up, "O, if your brother so much as looks at something he could torture someone with, you cut the grounder down." Then the hatch door slams shut, leaving everyone that is in the third floor silent and staring at the door.

* * *

><p>"Clarke, he's getting- what the hell happened to you?!" Raven asked as she watches the girl painfully make her way over to the jug of alcohol, dousing a rag in the stuff. "Bellamy happened."<p>

"Oh my god. You're saying he...?" Clarke nods, and attempts to strip off her shirt, but stops when the hatch above them opens, Octavia dropping down and landing softly, her arm wrapped up. "Raven, here. He gave me the antidote. Clarke, come here and let me clean up your back." Raven waists no time in grabbing the glass vial and empties a fourth of its contents into Finns mouth, then relaxes as she watches his breathing even out.

"Really Octavia, I'm fine. It's not even that bad."

"No you're not, Clarke. And yeah, it is that bad. The buckle must have had a sharper edge, because there's a gash in your back. Now sit still, and hand me the rag."

"Octavia, I'm-"

"I swear to god, Clarke, if you say you're fine I'm going to throw you in the river in your underwear." Clarke lets out a pained chuckle, and gives in, hissing slightly as the wet rag meets her open wound. "So..." Raven begins, "What happened exactly?"

"Bellamy pulled his arm back to hit the grounder, and Clarke touched his side to stop him, then went to kneel in front of him."

"And?" Raven questions, leaning forward, but is interrupted when Miller climbs down the ladder, landing in front of her. "Clarke, Bellamy wants to talk-"

"No. I'm not talking to him right now."

"But-"

"What's he gonna do to me if I don't come up, huh? Whip me?" With that, Clarke turns back towards Raven, and soon it's just the three girls and Finn. "O, help me out of my shirt." The younger girl complies, and within ten minutes, has Clarke patched up and heading out the drop ship to her small tent. She sits on the makeshift bed, just a thin, ripped tank top covering her upper half, and sits with her back to the entrance, not noticing the flap opening. "You shouldn't be so careless, princess."

"Get out of my tent."

"Clarke, I'm sorry. I don't know how many times I'm going to say it, but I am. I was so pissed at the grounder, and so scared for O, that I didn't feel you touch my side until... Until it was too late." Bellamy walks over and kneels in front of her, his rough, calloused hands cupping her face softly. "Please, princess, I'm begging you to believe me. I would never hurt you on purpose." Slowly, Clarke's blue eyes look up and connect with Bellamy's dark ones, and she tries not to gasp at the intensity of his stare. Even still, she remains quiet. After several minutes of silence, Bellamy speaks again. "Does it hurt a lot?" Clarke shakes her head. "No, not really. It's just numb and sore, now." Bellamy pauses before continuing. "...can I see?" This catches Clarke off guard, but she gives a small nod, and with the help of her rebel leader (because even if she won't admit it, everyone knows it), takes off her tank top, revealing her bandaged back. Carefully removing the dressings, Bellamy gulps at Clarke's injury. The gash is long and jagged, and is starting to bruise around the edges. "God, princess, please... I swear I didn't..." Clarke turns to look at him, his eyes filled with pain and guilt and- no, those can't be tears, but they are. She places her hand on his face gently, sighing. "I know, you big idiot." Their foreheads touch, her blues eyes close, and as they do, so do his dark ones. "I know."

She never knew she could express everything she felt; felt for him, for the current situation, for the annoyance of being on earth, in two simple words, but she did, and she had never been more thankful.


End file.
